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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28685121">Time</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/FanFictionette/pseuds/FanFictionette'>FanFictionette</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>David Bowie (Musician)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Gen, and bowie is who i was obsessed with at the time, at literally all of their concerts, but he was who i was thinking of when i wrote this, idk i just got really attached to this idea, not historically accurate, of a musician noticing the same time traveler, still obsessed with him tbh, technically i never say the musician is bowie</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-01-11</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-01-11</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-13 06:55:41</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,148</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28685121</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/FanFictionette/pseuds/FanFictionette</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>No matter where he is, no matter how much time as passed, he can still find her at every concert he plays, looking exactly the same as the first time he spotted her.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>8</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Time</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>This has been sitting in my completed works folder for years. It's not based on any real historical timeline of Bowie concerts or anything even close to that, and this was written a good year or two before he died. Title is one of my favorite lesser-known Bowie tracks.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span class="u">1968</span>
</p><p>She’s there at the very first gig he ever plays, as close to the stage as she can possibly manage, and looking as though she might burst from sheer joy.</p><p><br/>It’s not until his third or fourth gig that he actually begins to notice her, front and center at each concert. Around the fifth or sixth show, it dawns on him that she’s wearing the same shirt as she was at the last show. There’s something that’s just off about it, the design is a little too avant-garde for even his taste.</p><p><br/>Nevertheless, it makes him smile to see such a dedicated fan so early on in his career, and just for her, he tries to sing as loudly as he can that night.</p><p> </p><p>
  <span class="u">1972</span>
</p><p><br/> Four years, and countless concerts later, through the swirling haze of fame and booze and drugs, he can still spot her almost every night he plays. He does his best to ignore her, convinced that she is a by-product of the massive quantities of cocaine pumping through his system day-in and day-out. <br/> </p><p>The tour continues, and before long he’s too wrecked to even form the thought of scanning the seas of fans for that familiar face; and before he even realizes it, he’s forgotten all about her.</p><p>
  <br/>
  <span class="u">1974</span>
</p><p><br/>Show after show, night after night, tour after tour, and blackout after blackout.</p><p><br/>Only an infinitesimal fraction of his rational mind still remains, but it notices that he’s beginning to slur and forget the words to once-familiar lyrics that he’d poured his heart into writing. Every night his surviving rational mind recedes further and further into his destructive stage persona, unsure whether or not it will ever reemerge.</p><p><br/>But none of that really matters, he’s got to keep going, he’s got to keep touring, he’s got to keep singing. Who cares if he ever comes back? People are coming to see his ego, not the real him. Besides, without this toxic psyche, he’s just an ordinary young man with a guitar, and where’s the fun in that?</p><p>
  <br/>
  <span class="u">1975</span>
</p><p><br/>It seems unlikely that he’s ever been this high before, but he’s almost sure that he’ll never come back down.</p><p>The stage lights are blinding, searing into his unnaturally dilated eyes. The roar of the crowd is a deafening tide that crashes over him again and again, drilling mercilessly into his head.  </p><p>But for the first time in years, through the god-awful fog, he sees her. Same face, same hair, same spot near the stage, same uncomfortably post-modern t-shirt. She doesn’t seem to have aged at all, and he takes this for confirmation that he has finally gone mad.</p><p>Behind him, the band screeches to a halt. He’s not really sure why. Did he stop singing? He must have, but that’s the least of his worries now. The ground beneath his feet no longer seems solid as black spots dance across his vision, and his stomach twists as he wills the world to stop spinning. Time slows, and he seems to watch from outside himself as he doubles over and becomes violently sick. After years of drug-induced disconnect with a body functioning on autopilot, his mind comes crashing back down to his body and he collapses painfully onto the hard, unforgiving surface of the stage. </p><p>All hell breaks loose: fans scream in horror as band members rush to help him, and in the midst of all the pandemonium, he locks eyes with her.</p><p>Her piercing gaze conveys fear, sadness, disappointment, and his heart constricts with guilt. He hopes that she can see in his eyes what he’s thinking as darkness blurs the edges of his vision:</p><p>
  <em>I’m sorry…</em>
</p><p>And he truly is as darkness swallows him whole.</p><p> </p><p><span class="u">1977</span><br/> </p><p>He often finds himself wondering whether or not she is real, and if her eyes might stop haunting him if he manages to stay clean.</p><p>He hopes so.</p><p> </p><p><span class="u">1979</span><br/> </p><p>For the first time in years, he walks out on stage with a clear head and a genuine smile on his face. Droves of fans have flooded into every available seat of the enormous stadium, and he can see homemade signs declaring “We love you!!”, “Biggest Fan” and even “Marry me!” floating atop the sea of people.<br/> </p><p>And there she is in the front row, jumping up and down and cheering wildly, gleeful hope shining from her eyes as she looks up at him.<br/> </p><p>Behind him, the band begins to play, and he knows he is forgiven.</p><p>
  <br/>
  <span class="u">1982</span>
</p><p><br/>Every time he steps out on stage, he looks for the girl in the front row, and she’s there, singing her heart out in time with him as she dances to the music. </p><p>
  <br/>
  <span class="u">1990</span>
</p><p><br/>Without fail, he now finds her at every event he plays, and is always delighted to see a familiar face; whoever or whatever she is.<br/> </p><p>Although he must admit, it is a bit strange when he notices her singing along as he gives his fans a preview of his next album.</p><p>
  <br/>
  <span class="u">2016</span>
</p><p><br/>The roar of the crowd swells as the music fades behind him. A bright smile spreads across his face as he looks out over the sea of adoring fans.<br/> </p><p>“How ‘bout one last one, then?!” He shouts into the microphone.</p><p><br/>The audience screams their approval, and he hears the guitarist strum the first few notes of a familiar tune. As he begins to sing, he locates her; front and center in the first row, same as ever.</p><p><br/>Something about her seems different this time, though. She’s still wearing the same t-shirt, but it no longer seems out of place as it did the first time he saw her.</p><p> <br/>She looks older too, not by much, but something in her face seems less juvenile. There’s also someone else with her this time, a parent, perhaps? They look bored and tired as she tries to shout something to them over the music.<br/> </p><p>He watches as she gives up and turns her attention back to the concert; singing along and pumping her fist in the air in time with the music. </p><p>The final notes of the song ring out over the crowd, which cheers wildly as he shouts:</p><p>“Thank you!! Goodnight!!”</p><p>Now backstage, he waits outside his dressing room to meet briefly with those who bought backstage passes. They’re all wonderful, wishing him well and talking about how excited they are to see him. The line of people grows shorter and shorter as he greets fan after fan until she’s standing right in front of him.</p><p>She’s star-struck, tears in her eyes and a smile on her face.</p><p>“This has been the greatest night of my life!!” She gushes, barely able to contain her joy. “I wish I could have gone to every show…” she adds, holding out a poster for him to sign.</p><p>Their eyes lock as he smirks and says:</p><p>“I wish you could have, too.”</p><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Is this wish-fulfillment? Yeah, I guess, but it seemed like a good time to finally post this since I'm remembering David and his music especially fondly today. Hope everyone liked it - leave kudos or a comment if you did!</p></blockquote></div></div>
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